A Soldier's Honor
by Zezima Veliz
Summary: Barely escaping from a fiery death, veteran of war; Conor Lane Burns finds himself teleported to a world unknown to humans, which, seems to be inhabited by...ponies? Will Conor find out what has brought him to this strange world? Will he ever make it back to Earth? ...does he even want to return? Read to find out! (Title Changed to Remove "Redux")
1. The End?

A Soldier's Honor 

_**Oh, by the way...I don't own My Little Pony. That right remains with Hasbro. All I own is a few somewhat cool ideas(to me, anyway), a notebook, and a decent laptop. **_

**Conor Lane Burns—25 years old.**

**New York, United States **_**5:50**_

**July 14****th****, 2019 **

Startled, Conor Burns found himself covered in cold sweat. He had just woken up, and although his clock's alarm was blaring loudly from the nightstand beside him, he hadn't even noticed. Leaping out of bed, he awkwardly trudged across the unlit bedroom, his sense of balance still not fully functioning. Holding his hands out blindly in front of him, he walked forward until his hands met cold smooth brass. Turning the object in hand, he found it was a door knob, and pushed the door open, stepping into the unlit hallway. Out of habit alone, finding the light switch was relatively easy, and once he had covered one of his eyes, flipped it on. Although his eyes were able to adjust slightly faster to it, he still had to shade them from the harsh light. Stepping into the bathroom he once again flipped the light on and standing in front of the mirror, he slowly observed his very slightly scar-ridden face.

"No way— " Conor whispered, looking closer in the mirror. Bringing his hand up to the somewhat moist flesh, he felt what appeared to be almost dried streaks of tears below his eyes. Reaching down to the sink, he gradually turned the left nozzle, a dulled red sticker on it to indicate warmness, causing a steady, cool stream of water to shoot from the faucet.

After a moment, the water slowly heated up, emitting steam. To keep it at a decent temperature, Conor turned the right nozzle which, in turn only had a blue mark left on it to represent coolness.

_I can't believe this, how the bloody hell did this dream manage to drive me to tears this time... _Conor thought, rubbing his eyes lazily. Making a bowl shape with his hands, he slowly filled them to the brim with the warm water before promptly splashing the liquid onto his face. Reaching for a cloth from the towel bar to his left, Conor brought it to his face. As he rubbed the cloth on to his skin, the soft fabric almost tickled against his facial hair. He then discarded the indigo cloth in to the empty hamper hanging loosely on the door to his right.

"Not great—but it's definitely better," Conor observed, gazing at himself in the mirror. Working out at his apartment building's gym everyday, he had managed to maintain his build from when he had been in the military two years before. From when he was last measured for height back in February, he currently stood between 1.93—1.95m, and stepping on to the bathroom scale he kept under the sink, he currently weighed in at 103kg. _Not bad,_ he thought contently to himself.

Standing up, Conor grasped for his toothbrush before noticing an odd stench wavering in from beneath the bathroom door. Opening the door out of curiosity, he found nothing out of the ordinary, but the smell, getting stronger still, actually made it somewhat difficult to breath. Approaching the wooden door leading out into the hallway of the apartment, he suddenly felt the temperature increase profusely. Attempting to grab the doorknob, Conor felt a white hot pain in his hand as the flesh came in contact with the scorching hot metal. Instinctively, he retreated the hand from the doorknob, though it didn't help too much. Wrapping his hand in the fabric of his shirt, he grasped the doorknob in hand and turned, pulling the door toward him. Almost as soon the door was opened, Conor immediately felt a wave of intense heat shoot in to the room., Out in the hallway, there was a large amount of orange and red flames, eating away at the wood making up the walls and ceiling, and on the floor, several patches of carpet had already been burnt to a crisp due to the extreme heat.

Out of a pure adrenaline rush, Conor slammed the door shut and pressed his back to it. His heart rate increasing severely, he deeply inhaled for oxygen but only found thick, harsh smoke filling his lungs. Coughing, he strode toward his bedroom where the smoke was less thick. Yanking the blanket from off of the bed, he stuffed it under the door in an attempt to slow down the smoke. Quickly, Conor opened the door to his small closet. And reaching for his stainless steel suitcase from on top of the shelf, he brought it down to the carpet, and started to fumble with the keypad securing it.

"Was it 8—3—5-or...no—no that's not right," he mumbled frustratingly, having pressed the 'reset' key several times. _Ah! There you go,_ as the suitcase's lock finally gave in. Laying in the corner of the closet lay a large box with the word 'Emergency' written on it in permanent black marker, and picking up the box with relative ease, emptied the contents into the suitcase; including a small numbers of jeans, shirts—both long sleeved and short sleeved, shorts, socks, and boxer briefs—any clothing he'd need in a dire situation like the one he was currently in. Crawling toward the nightstand beside his bed, he slowly slid his hand beneath it, grabbing the key he had hidden there. Using the key to open the top drawer, it reveals a shiny 44. Magnum complete with several boxes of ammunition and a collection of tools to assist with cleaning it. Carefully, he placed the ammo cases one-by-one into the suitcase. As the scent of smoke started sneaking into the room, Conor latched the Revolver onto his belt, and searching farther into the upper drawer, found a collection of notepads, each filled with several drawings ranging from back when he was 7 years old—to the present, and underneath those: a gas mask.

_Being honest with myself, I can't exactly remember why I've kept this in the first place, but hell...it filters the smoke into fresh air so I can't really complain, I suppose_, he thought, placing the mask on to his face, thankful for the break from the thick, thick smoke. "Now, where was I..." whispered Conor to himself, his voice modified slightly by the mask.

Unlocking the lower drawer, he found a few things that were a bit more personal to him; including a photo album, which, surprising contained photos from back in the days when he was in the training camp; something he tried frequently to forget, all the way to when he was joining his first platoon. ...for whatever reason, he had kept no pictures of his time in the military past that point. Beside that, lay a small box containing his numerous medals, and of course—his dog tags. Sliding the tags over his head and onto his neck, Conor clutched the album in hand and very carefully placed it into the suitcase, closing it afterward. Pushing himself off of the floor, he picked up the suitcase and placed it onto the mattress.

Walking over to the large window, he attempted to open it but to no avail. It wouldn't budge.

_Well then._

Bringing his right foot back, he thrust it forward and through the glass—which provided little to no resistance, letting a cool breeze into the room. Grinning silently to himself, Conor grabbed his Carhartt from off of the coat rack and slipped both arms into it, bringing it over his shoulders. Stepping into his boots, he grabbed the suitcase and headed toward the window. Climbing through the opening, he made his way onto the fire escape, being certain to avoid the broken shards of glass. As Conor cautiously stepped out onto the fire escape, a low creaking escaped the rustic metal heavily creak due to his weight.

Breathing heavily, Conor slowly made his way to the stairs of the fire escape, which hopefully led to a lower level. Ducking down, he was just _barely_ able to squeeze through the small opening but suddenly, the cold metal shook slightly as yet another low groan escaped it. It felt as if the whole building was moving, shifting slightly to the east, and then back to the west. Suddenly, Conor had to reach for the safety railing, the apartment violently shifting towards one direction and halting, causing the suitcase to almost fall out of his sweat-coated hand.

"Too close!" gasped Conor, wiping the sweat from off of his hand with his shirt. "Too close..." he repeated to himself, slowly regaining his balance.

Glancing through the glass of a nearby window, Conor saw almost nothing through the thick, black smoke except the light of the vibrant, orange-red flames. "Better out here, than in there," thought Conor, once again going down the steps of a staircase. He was surprised at how easily he was getting down the steps, until suddenly a loud 'crack' was heard from somewhere below him, making him stop in his tracks. Peering over the railing to see what made the noise, he felt the floor beneath him lurch abruptly, then stop.

Conor did not dare to move. 

All at once, Conor felt the metal under his feet collapse and found himself falling toward the concrete below. Desperate, he swung his free arm upward and attempted in vain to grab for something to hold on to, but found nothing but air. Glancing downward, Conor saw the concrete racing closer and closer toward him.

"Dammit!" he growled, frustration being his only emotion. "I survived a damn war by myself, but a long fall is the thing to kill me?!" yelled Conor, though he knew nobody except himself could hear it. Suitcase in hand, he closed his eyes tightly in anticipation, expecting nothing but the absolute worse.

But it never came.

Suddenly, it felt as if Conor had been teleported to the Arctic, as the temperature had dropped almost 32 degrees Celsius. And although he eventually opened his eyes, what he saw was not much different from when they were closed.

_Darkness. Pure, and absolute._

_**Author's Note: ...and...done. Sorry this chapter took so long, everybody. I've been rather busy lately with family matters and other personal things. Another thing I'd like to note is that, I've spent several hours typing, editing, re-typing, re-editing, re-re-typing, etc...so forgive me if there are a few grammar issues here and there, as I was up late in the night to get this finished for you guys. I plan to have some of those fixed sometime tomorrow.**_

...Another thing I'd like to apologize for, is my long absence from this website. It should NOT have taken me this long to get my account back from the hijacker(s?) Regardless, I am back now, and I plan on getting this story, new and improved, out to all of you. Thank you for your patience.  


_** Oh, and don't worry about the short chapter, as the next one should be out sometime relatively soon, and it should be a lot longer length wise.**_

I love you all,  
~Zezima


	2. Droppin' In!

_**A/N: Before we start, I have some rather important news about this story's main character to tell, first and foremost. I am changing his name to **__**Conor Burns**__**, and the reason for that being...well, let me explain a little bit of what's been happening.**_

_**During my absence from this site, the small portion of time not spent on my job, family, or friends, was spent on writing (and drawing but whatever.) While writing other projects, I started coming to the realization that I just really enjoyed writing stories about main characters that weren't based off of me, and I feel that's because it's a lot easier to create believable characters when I'm not constantly worrying about not letting them make mistakes or showing actual human emotion.**__****_

As you all know, I do NOT own My Little Pony, as that honor belongs to Hasbro. Let's get this started!

"Speech."

"_Emphasis._"

_Thought._

**Conor Lane Burns**

**'Unknown Location' **_**'Unknown Time'**_

**'Unknown Date'**

To be sure he wasn't out of his mind, Conor hesitantly closed his eyes once more. Feeling the temperature instantaneously rise to a mild 25ºC, his eyes shot open, astonishment taking over.

_This isn't New York._

Glancing downward, he immediately spotted a towering mountain, with a single waterfall making its way down one side of it, leading down to a small blue lake. Near the lake, Conor saw a rather large sized city; a cluster of glorious towers of all sizes. Strung together closely, the buildings were a mixture of colors, ranging from a dull grey-blue, to a marble white, a small amount of a vibrant gold mixed in. A top a select few of the towers, were hot pink flags, erected proudly and waving effortlessly in the calm, blowing wind. But standing out the most among the various buildings, stood a maravelous palace, a major section of which, actually hung over the ridge of a large hill, giving a wondrous view of the green landscape kilometers below.

As soon as Conor realized this was where his descent seemed to be leaning him toward, panic struck him like a train.

**Royal Palace, Canterlot 6:10 (Perspective change) **

Glancing at herself once more in the mirror, Princess Celestia took a shallow breath. _Well...might as well get this over_, _now that I've gotten around to raising the sun,_ she thought bitterly, her normally joyful facial features cloaked in grimace. Turning, the princess glanced around at the room around her. It was her bedroom. The ornate walls were decorated in to a gradient of a violet/blue color, starting a light shade and transitioning to a dark shade. And along with a lone shooting star, there was also a waving cloud pattern painted across the rounded walls of the perfectly circular room. In the center of the room, a soft and fluffy rug rested, and on top of it's violet surface lay a golden pillow of silk.

Two guards on each side of her, Princess Celestia trudged slowly throughout the lusciously decorated hallways. Not that she was lost, or unsure of where to go, on the contrary, actually. She knew exactly where she was supposed to go, but she wasn't at all excited to get there. At this point, taking her time was all she could do to delay the inevitable. For today, she was supposed to attend a dinner with one of her economic advisers; Mansy, for a so-called "_much needed discussion_", or at least, that's what he had called it in his letter. _The economy is fine! _Celestia fumed inwardly, trying to let it not show on her face how truly frustrated she was. _Both Luna and I told him that, not that he would listen to anypony but himself..._

Making it to the dining room door, Celestia rested her hoof against it, not bothering to open it. _Maybe he caught the flu and couldn't attend, _the princess thought optimistically, trying to raise her mood. _Or perhaps his wagon broke down and- _

"Uh, Your Highness, if you don't mind me asking...is something the matter?" one of the guards beside her asked, interrupting her thoughts. Glancing over at the guard, Celestia smiled warmly "No...no, I'm fine. Thank you for asking, though," she replied, causing a furious blush to form on his face. Pushing the golden door open, the princess trotted silently in to the dining room to find that her sister; Princess Luna, and the adviser were already sitting at the dining table talking quietly to each other. Though from the looks of it, the adviser was doing most of the talking, as Luna simply sat and looked at him, giving the occasional nod and "I see," though it was obvious to Celestia that she wasn't actually listening to him, as she had a constant look of disinterest.

"Ah, Princess! It's so _nice_ of you to join us," the stallion almost yelled from the other side of the gym sized room waving his forearm at her. Motioning toward a seat across from him, the adviser continued "Come, come! Sit down, the others should be here soon, along with the chef-"

"Others? Chef...? Mansy, I could've sworn you said this was supposed to be just a private meeting," Luna interrupted, feigning disappointment. She wouldn't really mind having other ponies attend. It'd be a lot easier to drown Mansy out with a large group.

"Ah, princess, princess...no need to be so _disheartened!_ _Alas!_ I am merely kidding. A small joke!" the stallion roared in laughter at his own joke, his monocle almost falling off in the process. _So much for drowning him out_, Luna thought disdainfully, rolling her eyes. Adjusting the corrective lens back in to it's rightful position, Mansy continued "It will only be the three of us today, as I stated in my epistle."

Motioning for her guards to leave, Celestia walked slowly over to the table, stationing herself across from Mansy. Bowing respectfully toward the princesses, they began to march orderly out though the door, when Celestia stopped one of them, stating "There's no danger here, so once we're finished, I'll send somepony for you and the other guards," The guard nodded silently. He had been expecting her to say that. After several years of serving in the Royal Guard, he had come to realize that Princess Celestia and Luna did not like to have guards around 24/7. Personally, he didn't blame them. "_Hopefully..._this shouldn't take too long, so there's no need to worry about Luna and I, we will be fine. ...though there's the ever so slight chance that he might _bore _us to death," the princess continued in a whisper, giving him a weak, but reassuring smile. Stifling the slightest giggle, the stallion turned and walked at a fast pace through the door, closing it softly behind him.

"Now that they're gone, let's get this started, shall we?" Mansy announced a little too loudly, considering the group's small size. "_Started _with _what_, exactly?" Luna asked impatiently. "Our discussion of _utmost importance_ about the currently downward spiraling economy of Equestria, my dear. I said this in my letter to you, did I not?" chuckled Mansy, in an almost teasing manner.

_There he goes again about the economy, _Celestia thought, almost groaning out loud. _I swear, it seems as if that's the only thing he thinks about-except for himself, of course._

The instantly recognizable sound of shattering glass suddenly echoed throughout the dining room, and before they could look up to see what had caused it, something crashed down on to the table almost a meter away from them, bringing with it several large shards of glass from the window above. Fortunately, Celestia was able to act at just the right moment, forming a sphere of violet magical energy around the group of ponies, shielding them from any harm. Despite this, the three still flinched as several pieces of the debris bounced harmlessly off of it's magical surface. Although the table was made out of a tough type of wood, it was still splintered upon impact, causing even more debris to spiral toward the ponies. "_MONSTER!_" shrieked Mansy, frozen in place. Hearing this, Celestia opened her eyes, getting her first good look at the _thing_, and almost instantly concern struck her.

**(Perspective Change)**

Upon impact with the table, Conor lost consciousness.

Waking up almost seconds later, he expected to feel the immense pain from earlier, but instead, felt absolutely nothing. He opened his eyes to find everything unfocused, causing there to only be a blur of colors around him. Conor tried to rub his eyes to clear up his sight, but his efforts were in vain. His arms wouldn't even budge. In fact, none of his limbs seemed to be responding, leaving him incapacitated. "_MONSTER!_" he heard a voice call out from somewhere near him, presumably male. After that, a scattering of footsteps and a door being slammed in the distance. "I...I'm n-" was all Conor could get out before having a furious coughing fit, blood landing onto his torn jacket and the black t-shirt underneath. After that, he noticed it had started to become increasingly difficult to breath, air coming slow and shallow to his lungs.

"Luna, go get the medics!" a higher pitched voice cried out from nearby him. "But what if-" another voice started. "_Now,_ Luna!" the earlier voice interrupted, almost yelling now. After that, he heard another clatter of footsteps and a door being yanked open, but not closed after.

Seconds after, he realized his sight was starting to return, everything coming in to focus. Lifting his head slightly off of the floor, he turned it away from it's previous resting state to look straight in front of him. _What the...? _Conor thought, his eyes opening wide as he saw Princess Celestia clearly for the first time. _I-is that a unicorn with...wings? Where the bloody hell am I? _he questioned, not believing that the equestrian creature in front of him was actually real.

Glancing downward at his chest, Conor realized that beneath his unzipped jacket, his black t-shirt's soft fabric had been torn in several places, shards of glass visibly puncturing his skin, blood oozing slowly out of the deep cuts. _Not too proud to say I've seen worse_, he observed, the slightest bit of sadness tugging at the back of his mind. Pushing the emotion away, Conor concluded that it was best to focus his mind on the matter at hand, rather than dwell in the past. _Besides, what I __**can't**__ see from the outside is probably what's damaged the most, judging from the sizes of those shards._

Upon scanning the room, Conor found that it was... quite spacious to say the least. Length-wise, the large room was nearly half the length of an average American Football field, about 40-45 meters or so, he guessed, and it's width was about half of that. In each of the four corners of the room, were white, very ornate pillars. H_opefully they're only for decoration, as they don't look very strong, despite their enormous size._ In the center, an elongated table was placed, which, now had a very large gap in the center, thanks to him. Aside from the glass and wood that now littered it, the floor was made out of a beautiful, marble white material. And though Conor didn't know what that material exactly _was, _he could definitely tell it was hard.

Looking upward toward the ceiling, there was a large overhead window-a massive part of it was also missing. _Whoops._

Beginning to feel slightly lightheaded, Conor carefully lowered his head onto the hard floor, hoping to shake the feeling as quickly as could. He wanted to remain awake as long as possible, and the room starting to spin around him surely wasn't helping. Adding to that, breathing was quickly becoming impossible, as each intake of oxygen was stopped abruptly by loud, violent coughing. This would've been intensely painful, if it wasn't for Conor being unable to feel much of _anything, _let alone pain.

Darkness slowly started eating away at the corners of his vision, and Conor found himself once again coughing up another wad of blood, more small red blots forming on his shirt. As his vision slowly faded to darkness, Conor's head limply fell to the side, and for the first time, he spotted the suitcase he had been carrying earlier, which had somehow slid several meters away, and ended up leaning against the wall.

Unable to effectively breath, any feeling that Conor had been feeling until that point immediately dissipated, and he lost consciousness.

_**A/N: ...alright! Another chapter done, more questions to be answered, oh boy.**_

_**How do you guys feel about the main character's name change? I know that in the first writing of this story, the character sharing my name-Zezima, also had a lot of my personal traits, making the story into a semi-self insert, though I never truly intended for the character to be an exact replica of myself.**_

_**Regardless, I hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter, I tried my best to lengthen it out a bit without making it jump over the place constantly, and I hope that shows.**_

I love you all,

_**~Zezima**_


End file.
